


Eternally Missed

by Lokismindtricks



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Panther (2018) Spoilers, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, Natasha Romanov Feels, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokismindtricks/pseuds/Lokismindtricks
Summary: Natasha is about to face Bucky after his treatment in Wakanda and is having a hard time leading up to their reunion.





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> A random one shot inspired by a Tumblr ask box prompt and the right music. Buckynat is one of my favorite ships, but I haven't really been in touch with my Bucky muse in a few years. I hope I do his character justice? 
> 
> Listened to/ quoted music:  
> Muse - Eternally Missed  
> Muse - Showbiz
> 
> THIS FIC CONTAINS (MILD) BLACK PANTHER SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Natalia?” a man’s voice sounded, almost like a whisper.

Her head snapped up in response, but she only found Madame B had stepped in front of her with an unforgiving look in her eyes. “Drifting off, Romanova? Again!” The slap from the thin stick in the woman’s hand that landed against her thigh burned furiously on her pale skin. The other girls in the room glanced over, but got back to dancing as soon as the middle aged lady turned back towards them to correct their mistakes. 

The voice Natasha had heard grew louder as the song they were dancing to, ‘March Of The Toy Soldiers’, progressed. The voice seemed to come from inside her head rather than her surroundings, though. She couldn’t see any men in the room with her, and none of the girls, nor Madame B seemed to respond. Maybe she was breaking after all. Perhaps she was going insane. She wouldn’t be the first one to break this way, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Nat?”

Natasha turned to find Steve walk up to her through the hall, a small grin on his face. “Where were you off to? Something on your mind?” He didn’t see her distracted like that very often, drifted off into her own mind. 

She quickly played it off and looked back out the window, taking in the view over the valley of the rich African nation of Wakanda. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had found a moment of quiet, awaiting results from Shuri’s lab, but it seemed to be late in the afternoon, both their shadows long against the richly decorated wall behind her.

“No, just enjoying the view. It’s quite impressive… How is he doing?” she asked, hoping the news they had received days earlier was as good as it sounded. 

“I’m not sure how a sixteen year old can pull off this type of magic,” Rogers said, his face lighting up at the idea of getting his best friend back in the best way possible, “but she seems to have fixed him up. The programming is gone. His memories seem as complete as can be and... well apparently he’s still bad at math,” he laughed. “He’s in the outskirts of town and we can go visit if we like. Would you like to tag along?”

“Romanova!”

She gasped against her lover’s lips as they disconnected and jumped up at the sound of the metal door to their secret meeting place smashing open. A wave of about ten soldiers and behind them Madame B, along with both their training supervisors rushed inside. “I told you she would not be able to keep her hands to herself,” he lady sighed. “Split them up and take them away. They are not leaving this place,” the men were ordered. 

But Natasha wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She wasn’t sure how they had found out about them or their plans to escape this place together. The widow had been sure to go over everything. Camera’s, bugs, whispers, anything… 

Both of them pulled out their knives and stood prepared. They were not going to be taken apart like this. Not now, not ever. They were convinced that, despite their situations, they controlled their own destinies. They had planned to leave quietly, but neither of them would weep over spilled blood to free themselves from this hell. 

Though the first two soldiers went down, reinforcements walked in as soon as they realized both their best students would win this fight. But strength came in numbers after all. Using tasers they worked the redheaded Widow to the ground first. As soon as she could no longer control her limbs, they took hold of her. She started screaming is desperation, and never stopped fighting the grip of the countless hands trying to hold her down. But tears weren’t going to save her lover. 

She watched as her lover was forced to his knees, his metal arm mechanically deactivated and eventually presented to their masters along with herself, their faces rubbed against the cold concrete floor beneath them. It would be the last time she saw his face, Natasha feared. 

“Take him away. It’s about time he becomes useful. Bring him to the chair.” a male voice commanded in German. Natasha screamed again and one of the men holding her down did his best to cover her mouth, which she struggled against best she could. 

Madame B laughed at her agony, enjoying the torture that heartbreak brought along. “Hurts, doesn’t it Natalia? But it’s not real. This is why we train you not to get attached. But I promise you darling, you will never feel love again.”

“I don’t care if it’s real! I doesn’t change how it feels!” the young Widow cried out, her eyes glued to her lover’s as he was dragged away slowly.

“It doesn’t matter, darling. Soon you’ll be dead inside. As you should be. Take her away.”

“Natalia…?” 

Steve had left the small hut composed out of clay and wood about an hour later to go talk to T’Challa and asked her to come along. She had kindly declined, presented to opportunity to face her worst fear, along with a spark of hope. She had battled through fear more times than she could recall, but hope… Hope was what had cost her everything last time. 

His voice pulled her inside, her hands shaking. Last time she had laid eyes on him he had been angry and confused. Deeply brainwashed and struggling with both himself, reality and the consequences of his fate. But none of that remained. 

Bucky’s eyes were calm, his face unshaven and a little dirty. His hair had grown out since the airport fight and it reached over his shoulders. The robes he was draped in were made of wool blends and she could imagine it was a lot softer and comfortable than the leather jacket she was wearing in this weather. He still missed his metal arm, but Shuri had ensured them it was progressing quickly. 

“Natalia…” he repeated softly, unsure if she understood. 

“James I-” she started, caught up by emotions quicker than she could hide them. A set of tears dripped down her face and onto the soil beneath her feet. 

He shushed her and stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her gently against his chest. Natasha wrapped her arms around him and hid her face from the world. She couldn’t describe how happy she was to hear his heartbeat again. To feel him hold her and comfort her the way she so desperately craved for the last sixty years. She was finally home. 

“It’s alright,” he mumbled. “We’re okay now. We finally made it out,” he assured her. 

“I’m so sorry. I never came back for you. I should have… All of this is my fault. I should have chosen differently. Decided against my own gut feeling...,” she admitted, not sure if she’d ever be able to get over the guilt she felt towards both him and Steve. So many things could have been avoided if she hadn’t been a coward. If she had just done her job it would never have come to this.

He gently lifted her face and smiled lovingly. “There was never a choice for us, Natalia. The only choice I care for is the one where we chose to love each other. And I still do.”


	2. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More time spent in Wakanda, Bucky and Natasha finally get to train together, the Winter Soldier being rusty after such a long time. Will Steve finally figure them out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several requests I decided to write a second part to this story, so here it is! I hope you enjoy it, and perhaps there will be more in the future. If you have any suggestions or requests that fit this series, don't hesitate to share them with me. Thank you all for reading and supporting this story. It means the world to me.
> 
> Song inspiration:   
> Halsey - Is There Somewhere

The concept of not having any guns wasn’t strange for either of them. They might have been trained to use snipers and assault rifles, but they were never trained to depend on them. Yes, they were skilled assassin’s on long range, but that was not when they were most dangerous. It was close up hand to hand combat they both excelled in and until now a hand full of people had ever been able to match their skill. Their best friend was one of those people, along with the king of the country they were currently seeking refuge in.

Wakanda provided many alternatives to fire arms though, and the high tech facility they had to their disposal made for the most comfortable and safe training environments to date. With constant cooling and a wide range of hard plastic weapons lined up along the far end of the room it had everything they could wish for. And to top it all off, vibranium laced walls and floor panels, it made the perfect location for super soldiers and widows alike. 

Steve watched from behind the two way mirror as Natasha tied back her hair, interested to see how these two would go about practice together. He hadn’t seen much interaction between the two until now, and they seemed somewhat quiet when he was around. He was curious to find out how they behaved towards each other when no one was watching. 

Natasha finished up the wrapping around her knuckles with tape and started stretching. Clint would be proud if he had been there to see her. Bucky watched her as he tied his own long hair back, sighing softly. He looked around, finding no camera's, and he didn't think anybody would be watching either, considering people around here had better things to do, and convinced Steve was busy with T'Challa to talk about the current world issues, like the accords and the criminals Wakanda was giving a home. 

"You never used to do that..." he pointed out softly, not to mock her but mainly to make sure his own memory served him right. 

"Barton taught me, you should try it. He always says the last thing you want is for you to cramp up while chasing down some bad guy," she explained amused by his comment. "Little does he realize we were trained in Siberian winter." 

Steve frowned and tried to make sense of what was being said. Hydra and the KGB weren't far removed from each other, so that clicked. And both were trained and raised in severe circumstances. But Bucky's first comment made no sense to him even after several moments of thought. He was wondering if he had missed something, or perhaps if she had told Bucky about her training rituals before. 

Rogers took a chair and sat down, eager to hear and see more. In the back of his mind he felt bad feeling the urge to spy on his best friends, but he could not ignore the whispers telling him something was up, and there was no bad intentions. They were both skilled fighters and it would be great to see them square off against each other in friendly competition. He had seen them talk before, comfortably, in Russian even. He was happy to see them get along. It eased many worries he had, mainly about them working as a team. But after several occasions his worries had disappeared like snow before the sun. He chuckled to himself as he thought of himself as the third wheel between the two. 

Bucky chose a military style knife from the wall as he listened to her talk. It was much like the one he had used on the Captain back in DC all those years ago. Effective and deadly. Even in this plastic form it would be able to do plenty damage in his hands, if he had such intentions. But there were none. He had been very rusty since cryostasis, and his new arm needed practice. She had been kind enough to offer it. 

"But I suppose the White Wolf doesn't need to worry about muscle cramps. Before you know it he'll just be completely made out of metal, right Barnes?" Natasha jested, somehow unable to unsee the image of Vision with Bucky's hair in her mind. That image would haunt her forever. Considering Shuri’s talents she didn’t deep it completely impossible either. She had never seen anyone, not even Stark, produce such inventions before. Thankfully they were in the right hands. 

"You always talk when you get nervous," he pointed out more confidently now, a smile falling on his lips. "Afraid I'll rip off your left arm?" 

“You wouldn’t be able to even if you tried,” Nat scoffed, smirking as she finished up, finally focusing on the man in front of her. “Bring it, Barnes.”  
Bucky flipped the knife around between his fingers and proceeded to make an obvious lunge in her immediate direction. Natasha dodged and tried to unhand the knife from him in a swift motion, using her full body weight to pull his wrist in the wrong direction. Unfortunately his wrist nor his fingers moved even an inch in her attempt, the vibranium arm designed by the king’s sister simply too strong for her to bend.  
Her body stopped in its tracks and she snorted. “Now that’s just unfair James.”

Bucky laughed and swung up his arm, almost seeming to help her get on top of his shoulders. She still held onto his fist, trying to pry the weapon away from his grip. “James Barnes let go off that knife!” she laughed, squeezing her legs around his neck. His right hand went to hold onto her knee as he tried to pull his arm away from her. “No you let go!”

Steve was in awe. What was this? What could he call this for himself to make sense? This wasn’t fighting or training at all. He was about to reach for the intercom when he hesitated, looking over their faces, laughing and calling each other out on their childish behavior. His finger felt heavy on the button and he sat back down in his chair, his initially frowned face turning soft. 

When Natasha dropped herself from Bucky’s shoulders they continued their bout, and after a minute or so there was very little combat left to see for the captain. This was more likely a dance than anything else, perfectly choreographed for the two of them. All that was missing was some fitting music. Both assassin’s seemed perfectly content swinging their limbs at each other, dodging, blocking and matching each other’s fighting styles. Steve had never seen either this content.

Something clicked for the captain in that moment. He wasn’t sure how either of them had been able to hide it from him this long, or why neither of them had ever spoken about it, but it made sense now. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep yet content breath. “Amazing…” he told himself softly. A smile played on his lips. What were the odds? After a few moments more he got up and nodded before moving out of the door. It was up to them to decide when to tell him, but he was happy he finally figured it out. He was happy they had found each other. 

What their best friend missed because of his departure however was the end of their dance, with Nat pressing the point of the knife up against Bucky’s throat, a smile on her lips. He gasped softly as he felt the tip press into his skin. Time stood still for a moment and his expression turned soft as the knife retreated. She leaned up onto the tips of her toes and caught his lips in the softest kiss possible, dropping the training knife to the floor. Neither of them noticed the soft thud of the item falling onto the floor as James answered her kiss with equal passion. Their hands were already tangled in each other’s hair, their lips starting a dance of their own. They were finally home after what felt like an eternity.


End file.
